The Final Hour Poem by Otha Gwabe

Holding in emotions
Rapid churning in motion
Tumbling down in a twirl
Going round in a whirl

Pounding feeling
Stabbing pain
Mind reeling
Losing more than can gain

Folding from the hurt
Fighting for all it's worth
It won't stop
Like broken glass climbing to the top

Everyday my heart grows weaker
Pain growing more as I fall
I feel the hand of the Grim Reaper
I don't know how long I have at all

The clock is ticking
Running out of time
Now I'm thinking
Must enjoy as much before the chime